Confessions of a Vagrant Mind
by Gothic Author
Summary: [SLASH CONTENT] Spot's thoughts regarding his relationship with Racetrack. [modern day SpRace]


**Disclaimer:** "Newsies" does not belong to me. I admit it, all right? Now leave me alone! 

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**Confessions of a Vagrant Mind**

Cigars are _so_ phallic. It's not fair, really, 'cause Race obviously knows it, and the damned man does it _just_ to taunt me. And how do I know, you ask? Because every single time, every damn time Race sees me, he gives me that _smirk_, and he starts sucking and chewing on the goddamn _thing_, and it's so _unfair_, 'cause such gratuitous taunting is _completely_ wrong in my books. Especially if you're Racetrack, and _goddamn it!_ it's distracting...

The thing is, Race doesn't actually smoke. He just totes that cigar around because he thinks it looks cool. And generally speaking, he does look cool with it. See, Racetrack Higgins has a severe case of vertical-challenge-itis, not to say a pretty severe case of baby-face, too, but either way, he really doesn't look his age. I mean, he really looks like he ought to be in a middle school. So he always has a cigar with him so he'd look older and more mature.

In _my_ case, however, he's just being a cruel bastard. I mean, he knows I love him... He _has_ to. Even _I_ know that I love him. Yeah. Spot Conlon in love... Who'd have thunk it?

It's actually pretty weird. I've known Race for a long time. I think I've liked him even longer than that, but I just... never really knew it. You know how it goes, right? So anyway, we were talking once, out on my roof under the stars. It sounds corny, but there's this little niche on my roof just big enough for two people, and it's really very comfortable up there. It doesn't slant too much, and it's not so flat that you can't enjoy the view. Besides, there was supposed to be a meteor shower, and we were waiting for it. We were talking about... something - I don't remember - but we somehow got on the subject of romance and love and stuff like that. I usually don't like talking about it - I mean, what's the point? - but Race is an interesting conversationalist.

"You believe in love at first sight?" That's what he asked me. Or it was something along the same lines.

I snorted. "Love at first sight? You shitting me? _Hell_, no!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

I remember thinking that he was crazy. "Because! It's just not possible. I mean, you can _lust_ after somebody on first sight, but there's no way you can _love_ them; you don't know a thing about them. And I, for one, firmly believe in personality over physical attraction."

It was his turn to snort at me. "Yeah... Right... Says the biggest playboy this side of the Mississippi."

"Well, that's exactly what I mean, isn't it? Out of all the girls I've ever met, I've never loved a single one. Not in a romantic way. And to tell the truth, that's kind of _why_ I do what I do... However corny it sounds, I'm just trying to find the right person."

"You know, I do believe that I've underestimated you, Spotty-boy." He looked thoughtful - for once - and I couldn't help noticing that his eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight. All right, all right... I admit it. Big heap tough guy Spot is a hopeless romantic at heart. Albeit in a weird and twisted sort of way. So what?

Anyway, we talked some more, and it was really enlightening. I mean, you think about Race, and "genius" might not be the first word that comes to mind, but the kid is actually really smart. I finally understood why he'd made it onto Varsity Debate. He has a way with people; you want to listen to him 'cause he's just so amiable and patient about explaining everything, and because you want to listen, you want to believe. And it's not just the way he knows the perfect phrase for everything... He's got a nice voice. It's really pretty weird because if you ever described it, you'd call it "loud", "heavily accented"... "Distinctive". But there's something about it... I don't know. It's just nice, the sort of thing you'd like to hear before you fell asleep.

And then the first meteor streaked across the sky. Needless to say, we shut up. Or I did, anyway. Race always had to have the last word.

"Lo and behold," he whispered, "for the rains of heaven falls upon us this night."

It wasn't a quote, just an arcane-ish Race-ism, but in that moment, I suddenly realized how much I really loved the guy. Don't ask. Seriously, don't... It's not something I can explain.

Anyway, like I said, I realized. And... It made me happy. 'Cause I'd _found_.

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Corny much? Yessirree! But it's fluffy.

This was written for TSB, who rules and rightly claims that "there is never enough SpRace in the world!"

And I don't care if the last few seasons of "Angel" sucked... David Boreanaz has the best maniacal laugh _ever_.

**Gothic Author**


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